Cyborg 009: SHADOWLIGHT
by A. Keller
Summary: When a mysterious cyborg falls right into the hands of the Zero-Zeros, they must choose between trusting their instincts and using evidence. Meanwhile, Black Ghost has sent his deadliest weapon of all to wipe them out. Unfinished, but please review!


**NOTE:** I DO NOT OWN _CYBORG 009_, NOR DO I OWN ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS **except my original knockoff characters, numbers C20-C28**. **ALL **_**CYBORG 009**_** CHARACTERS COPYRIGHTED © BY SHOTARO ISHINOMORI.**

Cyborg 009: Shadow//Light

**Part I:** New Generation

//T.4//

A few janitors entered reluctantly as a group of men, clad in dark military fatigues, strode out. A janitor pulled a soapy rag out of a bucket. He squeezed it with trembling hands, letting all the water drizzle out, then lifted the rag to clean the patches of blood off the wall.

One of the uniformed men tucked a revolver back into its holster as he walked. "What a fool Morse was. Commander Scarl has so many traitors on his hands. The idiots."

"But now that we know Morse opened his mouth to the subject about her abilities, what are we going to do?" Another, shorter man put in. The hallway down which they walked was narrow and poorly lit. And yet each of the men wore dark glasses which hid his eyes.

A different man responded. "Won't Dr. Sarazin just activate her program?"

"It's not that simple, Dr. Thomas." The first man with the gun snapped back. "If the subject _ever_ deactivates that program, she'll know about her abilities and escape. She'll probably join those damn rebel cyborgs from two years ago." He ran a hand through raven hair.

"Duchar is right," said the shorter man. "And if any of these subjects becomes a failure of that magnitude, Scarl will have all our heads for sure."

The men were quiet for a moment. The off-beat rhythm of their steps filled the corridor. Then Duchar stopped, and Dr. Thomas and the short man copied him. Duchar turned to face them, his dark glasses gleaming.

"We'll have to wipe her memory." He nodded at Dr. Thomas. "Go sedate her now. We need to get this done before midday."

"Yes, sir." Dr. Thomas turned and disappeared down a perpendicular hallway.

DATA STRING PROCESSED SUCCESSFULLY_

An hour later, in a different wing of the same scientific facility sat a stout, middle-aged man in a white lab coat. He typed stubbornly into a powerful data computer, the light from the screen reflecting dimly off his spectacles. On his face he wore an irritated scowl; he'd been working like this all day. He was entering the second to last string of data when he heard a very out-of-place sound: it was a young woman's voice, singing.

_The days go by, and still I'm reeling_

_Fix the cold Van Gogh watching from the ceiling_

_I struggle hard to just remember_

_That my life will never be a never-ender_

_It seems like too much of a contrast between the black and gray..._

The melody was beautiful, but the man didn't stop to listen. He simply pushed out his chair and strode over to a large glass window to his right. Intrigued, he stared down into the deep-set robotics lab behind the glass.

She was singing all right, but her eyes were still closed. He carefully scrutinized the wires that attached her to the huge mechanism—a regulator—behind her resting body. Yes, she was still plugged in, and out cold. So how was she singing?

The man reached over and pressed a communicator button near the glass. He leaned into the mouthpiece and spoke.

"Dr. Loric," he said in a throaty voice. "This is Dr. Van Gyne reporting from the T.4 observation tower. T.4 has started... uh... singing, sir."

A voice replied in nearly an instant, making the man jump slightly. "Van Gyne, you imbecile! Are you saying she woke up?"

"No," Van Gyne replied. "Sir, she's unconscious. But I don't get it. She's singing as if she's awake!"

"Fool," Dr. Loric scoffed, then, after a silence, "I'll be right down."

"Hmph," grunted Dr. Van Gyne, and hung up the communicator. He stepped agitatedly back over to his desk.

Seconds before he sat down, a black blur shot across the robotics room below. Although he had not seen it, a harsh alarm sounded, and abruptly he knew something was amiss. He ran quickly over to the observation area, only to find that T.4—their creation—was gone.

Panicking, he slapped the communication button. "Dr. Loric! She's gone!" No answer.

A young man in an all-black military uniform was sprinting down a vast facility hallway, carrying T.4 over his shoulder. Naturally, after the alarm had sounded, indicating his escape, most of the security robots in the facility were released to pursue him. His speed was incredible, over 45 miles per hour as he rushed to get out of the building. But before he could think, eight armed security robots appeared at the end of the hall. The boy screeched to a stop. Then, with little effort, he touched two of his fingers to T.4's forehead, turned towards the wall beside them, and

they were gone.

Every robot in the facility was scrambling about trying to find the two missing inventions. No one could quite comprehend that they were inside one of the walls. In the tight enclosed space, the boy in black did his best to lay T.4 comfortably on the insulation. He looked at her beautiful face for a moment, then, knowing no one would hear him, he spoke.

"You poor thing," he murmured, fixing her hair. "I wonder what they could have done to _you_. You seem so fragile." He looked up and sighed. "Well, I guess that makes two of us. Be strong, C Twenty-One. Goodbye for now."

He put one palm on her forehead and one over her heart. A fizzing sound, like static, was heard, then silence. T.4 was nowhere to be found.

Then the boy in the black military uniform got up and disappeared into the wall.

//Placement//

Out on the ocean again. They always were; either that or out at different countries each week. It was actually a nice life to live.

They didn't have tangles with the enemy that often anymore, and they hadn't for months. For the zero-zero cyborgs, life was actually beginning to seem _normal_.

It had been a beautiful day, calm, sunny, with temperatures not going lower than 70°, until some strange gray clouds had rolled in. They were passing by a set of islands veiled by a thick fog. Before they knew it, it was a dull, cold drizzle outside, and they were all confined to the inside deck of the _Eclipse_. The afternoon became unexciting, so everyone decided just to do his or her own thing.

After a few hours, Dr. Gilmore had fallen asleep in the cockpit room. But something happened.

A crash exploded in the hall as 006 was knocked down while bringing in tea for the professor. There were quick footsteps up the stairs.

All of a sudden, 008 and 004 burst through the door of the cockpit room.

"Professor Gilmore!" Shouted 008 frantically, catching his breath in the doorway. "We've spotted someone on the rocks of one of those islands. You need to come see this!"

They rushed out to the deck to see what all the fuss was about.

"There," 004 said, pointing his steel right hand over to where 002 and 009 were carrying something. Lifting the binoculars to his eyes, Gilmore caught a glimpse of what it was. His mouth fell open in a gape. Slowly, his arms quivering, he lowered the binoculars. Drops of sweat were beginning to form on his brow.

"Professor! Are you all right?" 004 stepped over to see what was the matter. But now 002 had picked whatever it was up, and was landing back on the ship next to them. On the deck he carefully set the body of a young woman, dressed in a full white and black military uniform, with buttons, boots and a scarf almost identical to all of theirs—a cyborg.

She was put in sick bay for the next few hours—Gilmore said she was heavily sedated and would wake up in around 8. Each cyborg took a shift watching over her. Eventually, Dr. Gilmore used a special x-ray to make sure she was like the rest of them. She was mechanical, all right, but much of her was still very human.

As they took turns watching over her, each one of them noticed her outward appearance. Her nationality was uncertain, since her tawny skin could have characterized her as Asian, but the large area around her eyes could have made her British or American. Her hair was a streaky hazelnut color, cropped an inch or two off her shoulders. And once they looked up at her hair, they noticed something startling: she'd been given feline-like ears the size of her hands, and her human ears had been removed. Black Ghost had gone a long way.

Then, at 8 hours, just as Gilmore had predicted, there came a cry from sick bay.

"Everyone, get down here!" It was 003. "She's waking up!"

Nine of the others rushed down and huddled around the girl's stirring figure. She hummed softly as if dreaming. Everyone was in rapt attention, awaiting her awakening. Until there was a soft snap behind her head.

Her eyelids flew up.

The group jumped abruptly, not expecting the ferocity with which she moved. But it wasn't just the motion.

The eyes that were revealed were, white and all, a fierce red, glowing softly: robotic.

Not a muscle in her body moved as the eyes shifted slowly from side to side, scrutinizing each person in the room. A few of the surrounding cyborgs hesitantly drew their guns. The eyes scanned the room for quite a long time, until, abruptly, the snapping sound came again, and they swiftly closed.

Almost immediately, the girl groaned, shifted as if sleeping, and slowly reopened her eyes.

They were blue.

That was the first thing everyone noticed. Instead of the bright, artificial red they had been before, her eyes were now normal-looking. Yet they weren't normal, they were a pure, vivid, fantastic green-blue color which seemed to sparkle as they caught the light. And they caught the light, all right, for as she saw the ten unfamiliar faces of strangers staring at her, her eyes opened wide and her head lifted slightly.

She tried to speak, but what came out was a hoarse gargle, so she cleared her throat.

"Where am I?" she asked softly, her voice smooth and youthful like the sound of a clarinet. Even then, she sounded frightened.

Noticing her fear, 009 was the first to speak up. "We just saved your life. I guess you could say we're your friends," he said. He immediately wondered if what he'd said would make her feel better.

He didn't have to wait long to find out. The girl released a held breath of air. "Saved my life? Oh, good. Thank you, thank you so much." She laid her head back down on the pillow. She looked exhausted. There was a long silence.

Then she smiled weakly. "Hi," she said, amazing everyone. "My name's Holly Pacer. What's yours?" She turned her head to look patiently at 004.

He hesitated. "Me?" he said.

She nodded.

"Uh, my name is Albert. Albert Heinrich."

The girl looked over at 003 and waited for an answer. "Françoise Arnoul," 003 replied. They eventually caught on to this introduction game.

"Chang Changku," said 006.

"Pyunma," said 008.

"G. Britain," 007.

"Geronimo Junior," 005.

"Joe Shimamura," 009.

"Jet Link," 002.

"Dr. Isaac Gilmore," said the professor.

Holly smiled. "It's nice to meet you," she said quietly. They all stared in awe. She had closed her eyes, and if her closed lips hadn't still been smiling, they would have assumed she'd fallen asleep.

"Welcome to the _Eclipse_," said 007, grinning hugely. "It's great that we're meeting—"

Holly opened her eyes and jumped as if she'd been shot in the heart.

Then, with no explanation, she suddenly shrieked and burst into a fit of sobbing. She lay on her side, contracted into a trembling ball, and wailed uncontrollably. All of them just stood there, shocked, horrified, not having any idea what was going on or what they should do. One by one, they decided the best thing they could do was leave the room. So Holly was left there to weep.

She cried for an hour.

The only one who stayed was 003, who understood girls' emotions and, unlike 0014, actually volunteered to help. Instead, 0014 was found sitting in the furnished lounge of the _Eclipse_ reading uninterestedly through three thin, little-heard-of Italian novels. 009 came up the stairs and approached her.

"Did you see her?" He asked. He laid a hand on the back her favorite armchair.

Silence, then, "Hm?" 0014 did not look up from her book.

"The cyborg in white. The girl."

"So she is a cyborg, then."

Apparently she'd seen her.

"Yes," 009 responded. "But I think something's wrong with her. She's just had a breakdown. We had to leave. She won't stop crying."

There was another brief silence. "I suppose she saw 004. Waking up to that is fit to break anyone down." A page turned.

009 looked at her for a moment, then turned around and walked away without finishing the conversation. If 0014 didn't want to care, there was nothing stopping her.

Gradually, 003 soothed Holly until her tears only came in the occasional shudder, and she had relaxed a little bit. By midnight Holly was calm enough to talk normally.

"So you're from America?" said 003, exhausted.

"Mm-hm," was Holly's tired reply as she munched on a piece of bread 006 had brought. "I was born in Cornwall, a little town in Connecticut. I guess you could say I was a small-town girl with big dreams."

"How so?"

Holly sighed. "I always dreamed of being a musician. I play the guitar and sing a lot."

"That's great," 003 replied heavily. She really did mean it, but she was so worn out from all that had happened, she sounded lifeless.

"What do you like to do?"

"Hm?"

"You, Françoise," said Holly. "What do _you_ like to do?"

003 laughed and closed her eyes. "I love to dance," she said. "I used to be a professional ballet dancer, you know," she said. "I'm from Paris."

"Really?" breathed Holly, flabbergasted. Her mood seemed to be improving. Maybe 006's food really _was_ magic. "I've always wanted to go to France! I heard it's _amazing_."

"It is..." 003 trailed off. Or rather, kind of dozed off.

Holly noticed. "Oh, I'm sorry. You must be absolutely exhausted," she apologized. "Do you have anywhere where I could sleep?"

The word "sleep" must have triggered an alarm somewhere in 003, because she immediately brightened up. "Yes, we do. Follow me."

As Holly stood up, a rectangular purple and red object fell from under her uniform.

Seeing it clatter to the floor, Holly's eyes filled up with tears of amazement and thankfulness. "My notebook!" She cried, and snatched it off the ground. "Oh, wow... how on earth?..." She smiled up at 003, then followed her out of the room in joyous silence. After they had left, a small white envelope was left on the floor of sick bay.

//C21//

A sliver of soft pink light crept into the lounge of the _Eclipse_. It was the morning after a new beginning, one could say. It was only 7:30, but the zero-zero cyborgs were already starting to wake.

Then the warm light drifted to a halt over a head of golden brown hair. Seated quietly on the off-white sofa was Holly Pacer, notebook in hand, scribbling thoughtfully into the purple-and-red pages. She hadn't slept a wink.

The first one to emerge from his bunk was a very tired 007. He blinked a few times as he passed Holly, then, as he realized she was actually there, walked over and plopped down in the red chair opposite her.

She had heard him sit down. But she just needed to finish these few sentences... She was silent.

"Good morning," 007 said, watching her curiously. He didn't have his usual vigor quite yet. It was too early.

With a few more frantic scratches of the pen, Holly finished, closed the book and set it down on the sofa beside her. She lifted her head to look at him.

" 'morning." She smiled without showing her teeth. She wasn't wearing her uniform anymore, 007 noted, just a plain tee shirt and jeans. She looked so much less like a cyborg without it.

007 smiled back sympathetically. "How are you feeling, Holly?"

She looked down at one of her hands. "I'm fine." She paused. "I'm really sorry about how weird I acted last night, I was just being stupid. I'm so sorry. I probably freaked everyone out."

"No, don't you worry about it." He was slightly intrigued; the apology was the most he'd ever heard Holly say. "Do you mind me asking what it was all about?"

"I..." She stopped again and glanced reflectively at the floor. "No. I just remembered... everything. I'm not me anymore. I'd forgotten about it before. I must have hit my head."

007 was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Holly met his gaze again. "Well, I noticed you... you have a uniform, like mine. Except yours is red and yellow." She remembered, even though he wore day clothes now. "First of all... Brenton, was it?"

"Britain."

"Britain. Sorry. Let me ask you this. Are you guys-" she motioned around the room, like she meant everyone on the _Eclipse_, "-in the military, or are you _like me_?" She was hinting at something, looking for a specific answer.

After a moment's thought 007 caught on. "We're like you," he replied.

Hearing this, she stretched her body back, eyes staring into the abyss of the ceiling. Her hands went up to touch her face. "Oh, man..." She said in a long sigh. "So you're... oh my God. Come here." She stood up and leaned forward to give 007— this man she'd hardly met— a thankful hug.

"Don't thank us, we just found you," said 007, but he couldn't help but hug her a little back.

Holly sat back down, obviously more relaxed now. "Are you serious? You saved my life. I'm forever grateful to everyone here." She scooched her journal away from her a bit. "What's _your_ number? You have one, too, right?"

"I'm zero-zero seven," said 007. "Why, what's yours?"

Holly stared off into the distance. "C twenty-one," she said.

004 was the second one to appear in the doorway. He glanced at the two of them sitting there.

"It's early," he said. He fastened the top button of his black shirt. "How'd you two sleep?" They could tell the question was directed at C21.

She laughed a little, still without showing her teeth. "I guess if you want me to be completely honest, I didn't. Thanks though."

"Holly here just told me something important," said 007. "You wouldn't believe it, but as it turns out, she knows she's a cyborg. Her number is see-twenty-one. Does that sound like anything familiar to you?"

004 stared at C21 for a moment, then looked back at 007 and replied, "No."

"So you guys really are the Nine... the, uh, rebels?" C21 put in.

0014 entered the room and nearly walked right past them all without a word, until she stopped at the sofa's edge, yawned, and said,

"Already harassing her this early, 004? Afraid she's made you obsolete?" C21 sat there, watching 0014 curiously.

004 temporarily ignored the comment to answer C21's question. "Whatever stories you've heard, we probably are. How have you heard of us?" He paused. "I'm 004, by the way."

"Oh... well, my friend Dr. Morse told me. He told me _everything_— about me, that is. And that awful Black Ghost... dictator... or whatever the heck he is. He's awful. Dr. Morse had a plan to get me to escape, but..." C21 shook her head rapidly and inhaled deeply. "The rest is history."

004 nodded. 0014 was still standing right next to him, though, watching patiently.

"Go get breakfast or something, Fourteen," he growled at her. "Or go worship your Mussolini doll. I don't care." C21 looked shocked at the comment.

But 0014 just grinned a bit, shook her head and walked out of the room. After she left, 004 grumbled something in German and resumed the conversation.

"So this Dr. Morse fellow, he was the scientist who made you?" He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets.

"No," said C21. "Or, according to what he told me, no. God, I remember it so clearly now. He told me the ones who made me were named... Sarazin and Loric, I think. But he said I was a big deal. A big... project. Ugh! Can you believe that?" She shuddered. "But really... he told me he thought what they were doing with me was wrong, and that they shouldn't use people as guinea pigs... I'm sorry." They had both been listening, but she stopped anyway. "I'm really venting on you, aren't I? I probably seem like a psychopath or something or other... Sorry."

"No, no," 007 encouraged her. "Go on. We're listening, don't you worry."

C21 eyed 004 skeptically. "You sure?" He nodded.

"Hey, C21. What was it that you meant by 'guinea pigs'? Weren't you just... enhanced?" 007 asked, leaning back in his chair.

Muffled footsteps and bumps could be heard down the hall where 009 and 005 were probably just waking. The _Eclipse_'s lonely steel, green and blue hull bobbed over the waves outside. The ocean was growing harsh from a thunderstorm miles away, one more powerful than any tropical storm ever witnessed. By now the pink light of morning had faded to gray.

C21's neutral expression didn't waver. "Yeah, no," she said. Her lips stayed slightly parted after she spoke. "My friend told me... there were, like, three other C21s before me. Oh yeah... which reminds me. He told me to show you something. Hold on."

Still holding onto that neutral expression, C21 got up and scurried down the hall toward the extra bunk she'd been lent. She disappeared into the doorway for a second, and nearly instantly emerged carrying the white uniform coat she'd been wearing the previous night. She sat back down on the sofa and spread the coat across her lap. She ran her fingers across the fabric, searching for some kind of mark.

"I just have to find... here!" She stopped her search and pointed a golden index finger at an inscription in the bottom-left corner of the garment's front. In thick, black typewriter lettering it read,

_T.4_

Dr. Gilmore wandered out of his bunk at the front of the hall to see them standing there. "Well— good morning, all of you— what is everyone gathered about, is it something I should see?"

007 just stared at the inscription, but 004's head turned. "She knows she's a cyborg after all, professor. C21. And take a look at this." Gilmore walked over and examined the text.

"Why, it looks like a label we used to put on test models," he said. "...this was on you, my dear?"

C21 nodded.

Gilmore scratched his head. "But I don't understand, we would usually put this label on rats and small animals. It doesn't make any sense."

"Hold on," said 004, narrowing his eyes. "You mean to say that you were a _test_ model, C21?"

"I mean, I guess so," she replied. "It's only what I've been told." Then she timidly added, "Oh, and I've been meaning to say this for a few minutes... I didn't want to be rude or anything. But do you think it would be okay with all of you if I asked you to call me by my name?"

004 and 007 just looked at her. At first they weren't sure what to say, mostly since no one had asked them the question before. Ever since the original nine of them had met up, each one's number had just assumed the place of his or her name, and it was left it that way. 004 didn't _really_ even consider himself Albert Heinrich anymore; he was just 004. And the days of acting and romance and ingenuity had all disappeared for G. Britain. They'd all fallen at the feet of a cyborg called 007.

So it was no surprise that it took a few moments of wonder and flashbacking to pull the two men back into the real world, and to answer the question.

"It's fine," 004 finally said. "I'll call you Holly, then. Holly the test model cyborg."

It was only a few moments later that the rest of the zero-zeros shuffled their way out of individual bunks. At around the same time, heavy raindrops began to pelt the hull of the ship.

(To be continued...)


End file.
